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Volution; an event of mighty consequence, and the firmest foundation of British liberty. The conduct of the Tories, during that event and 2fter it, will afford us a true insight into the nature of that party.

In the firlt place, they appear to have had the sentiments of a True Briton in them in their affection to liberty, and in their determined resolution not to sacrifice it to any abstract principles whatsoever, or to any imaginary rights of princes. This part of their character might justly have been doubted of before the Revolution, from the obvious tendency of their avowed principles, and from their almost unbounded compliances with a court, which made little secret of its arbitrary designs. The Revolution shewed them to have been in this respect nothing but a genuine court party, such as might be expected in a British government; that is, lovers of liberty, but greater lovers of monarchy. It must, however, be confest, that they carried their monarchical principles farther, even in practice, but more so in theory, than was, in any degree, consistent with a limited government.

Secondly, Neither their principles nor affections concurred, entirely or heartily, with the settlement made at the Revolution, or with that which has since taken place. This part of their character may seem contradictory to the former, since any other settlement, in those circumstances of the nation, mult probably have been dangerous, if not fatal to liberty. But the heart of man is made to reconcile contradictions ; and this contradiction is not greater than that betwixt passive obedience, and the resistance employed at the Revolution. A Tory, therefore, since the Revolution, may be defined in a few words to be a lover of monarchy, though without abandoning liberty, and a partizan of the family of Stuart; as a Whig may be defined to be a lover of liberty, though without renouncing monarchy; and a friend to the settlement in the protestant line.

Hume's EJsajt.

§ 103. Painting disagreeable in tVemcn.

A lady's face, like the coat in the Tale of aTub, if left alone, will wear well; but if you offer to load it with foreign ornaments, you destroy the original ground.

Among other matter of wonder on my first coming to town, I was much surprised at the general appearance of youth among the ladies. At present there is no distinction in their complexions between a beauty in her teens; and a lady in her grand climacteric; yet at the fame time I could not but take notice of the wonderful variety in the face of the fame lady. I have known an olive beauty on Monday grow very ruddy and blooming on Tuesday ; turn pale on Wednesday; come round to the olive hue again on Thursday; and in n word, change her complexion as often as her gown. I was amazed to find no old aunts in this town, except a few unfashionable people, whom no body knows; the rest still continuing in the zenith of their youth and health, and falling off, like timely fruit, without any previous decay. All this was a mystery that I could not unriddle, till on being introduced to some ladies, I unluckily improved the hue of my lip* at the expence of a fair one, who unthinkingly had turned her check; and found that my kisses were given (as is observed in the epigram), like those of Pyramus, through a wall. I then discovered, that this surprising youth and beauty was all counterfeit; and that (as Hamlet fays) "God had given them one face, and they had made themselves another."

I have mentioned the accident of my carrying off half a lady's face by a salute, that your courtly dames may learn to put on their faces a little tighter; but as for my own daughters, while such fashions prevail, they shall still remain in Yorksliire. There, I think, they are pretty safe; for this unnatural fashion will hardly make its way into the country, as this vamped complexion would not stand against the rays of the fun, and would inevitably melt away in a country-dance. The ladies have, indeed. 3 C 3 beesj fceeft always the greatest enemies to their own beauty, and seem to have a design against their own faces. Atone time the whole countenance was eclips* ed in a black velvet mask; at another it was blotted with patches; and at present it is crusted over with plaister of Paris. In those battered belles who still aim at conquest, this practice is in some fort excusable; but it is surely as ridiculous in a young lady to give up beauty for pftint, as it would be- to draw a good set of teeth merely to fill their places with a row of ivory.

Indeed so common is this fashion among the young as well as the old, that when I am in a groupe of beauties, I Consider them as so many pretty pictures; looking about me with as little emotion as I do at Hudson's: and if any thing fills me with admiration, it is the judicious arrangement of the tints, and delicate touches of the painter. Art very often seems almost to vie with nature: but my attention is too frequently diverted by considering the texture and hue of the skin beneath; and the picture fails to charm, while my thoughts are engrossed by the wood and canvass. Connoijscur.

§ 104. Advantages ofiutll-direBed Satire fainted out.

A satirist of true genius, who is warmed by a generous indignation of vice, and whose censures are conducted by candour and truth, merits the applause of every friend to virtue. He stiay be considered as a sort of supplement to the legislative authority of his country; as assisting the unavoidable defects of all legal institutions for regulating of manners, and striking terror even where the divine prohibitions themselves are held in contempt. The strongest defence, perhaps, against the inroads of vice, among the more cultivated part of our species, is well-directed ridicule: they who sear nothing else dread to be marked out to the contempt and indignation of the world. There it no succeeding in the secret purposes of dishonesty, without preserving some sort of credit among mankind; at there cannot exist a more impotent

creature than a knave convict. To expose, therefore, the false pretensions of counterfeit virtue, is to disarm it at once of all power of mischief, and to perform a public service of the most advantageous kind, in which any man can employ his time and his talents. The voice, indeed, of an honest satirist is not only beneficial to the world, at giving an alarm against the designs of an enemy so dangerous to all social intercourse; but as proving likewise the most efficacious preventive to others, of assuming the fame character of distinguished infamy. Few are so totally vitiated, as to have abandoned all sentiments of shame ; and when every other principle of in'egrity is surrendered, we gemriliy find the conflict is still maintained in this last post of retreating virtue. In this view, therefore, it should se.-m, the function of a satirist may be justified, notwithstanding it should be true (what an excellent mo» ralist has asserted) that his chastisements rather exasperate, than reclaim those en whom they fall. Perhaps no human penalties are of any moral ad-1 vantage to the criminal himself: and the principal benefit that seems to be derived from civil punishments of any kind, is their restraining influence Upon, the conduct ofoihers.

It is not every man, however, that is qualified to manage this formidable b„w. The arrows of satire, when they are pointed by virtue, as well as wit, recoil upon the hand that directs them, and wound none but him from whom they proceed. Accordingly, Horace rests the whole success of writings of this fort upon the poet's being integer ipse; free himself from those immoral stains which he points out in others. There cannot, indeed, be a more odious, nor at the fame time a more contemptible character, than that of a vicious satirist:

Quis cttlum terris non misceat &marecœ1o» Si fur displiceit Verri, homicida Miloni f


The most favourable light in which a censor of this species could poflibly be viewed, would be that of a public executioner,

cutioner, who inflicts the punishment structions, makes them to fewer people,

and on fewer occasions, than the other. I may be pardoned for using an old saying, since it is true, and to the purpose, Bonum quo communius eo melius. Juvenal, excepting only his first satire, is in all the rest confined to the exposing some particular vice; that he lashes, s■ and there he sticks. His sentences are

S 105. Juvenal andHorace comparedas truiy shining and instructive; but they

are sprinkled here and there. Horace is teaching us in every line, and is per

on others, which he has already merited himself. But the truth of it is, he is not qualified even for so wretched an office; and there is nothing to be dreaded from the satirist of known dishonesty, but his applause.

Fitac/borne's Letters.


I would willingly divide the palm betwixt these poets upon the two heads of profit ami delight, which are the two ends of poetry in general. It must be grafted by the favourers of Juvenal, that Horace is the more copious and profitable in his instructions of human life: but in m.y particular opinion, which I set not up for a standard to

petually moral; he had found out the skill of Virgil, to hide his sentences; to give you the virtue of them, without shewing them in their full extent: which is the ostentation of a poet, and not his art. And this Petronius charges on the authors of his time, as a vice of writing, which was then growing on

better judgments, Juvenal is the more the age: Ne sententitz extra corpus

delightful aathor. I am profited by oraiionis emineant. He would h'ave them!

both, I am pleased with both; but I weaved into the body of the worlj, and

owe more to Horace for my instruction, not appear embossed upon it, and

and more to Juvenal for my pleasure, strikirig directly on the reader's view;

This, as I scid, is my particular taste of Folly was the proper quarry of Horace,

these two authors: they who will have and hot vice: and as there are but few

either of them to excel the other in both notoriously wicked men, in comparison

qualities, can scarce give better reasons with a shoal of fools and fops; so 'us a

for their opinion, than I for mine; but harder thing to make a man wife, than

all unbiassed readers will conclude, that my moderation is not to be condemned. To such impartial men I must appeal; for they who have already formed their

to make him honest: for the will is only to be reclaimed in the one; but the understanding is to be informed in the other. There are blind sides and

judgment, may justly stand suspected of follies, even in the professors of moral prejudice: and though all who are my philosophy; and there is not any 6ne readers will set up to be my judges, I set of them that Horace has not ex

enter my caveat against them, that they ought not so much as to be of my jury; ori f they be admitted, 'tis but reason that they should first hear what I have to urge in the defence of my opinion.

That Horace is somewhat the better instructor of the two, is proved hence, that his instructions are more general, Juvenal's more limited : so that, grant

posed. Which, as it was not the defig11 of Juvenal,- who was wholly employed in lashing vices, some of them the most enormous that can be imagined; se, perhaps, it was not so much his talent. Omne vafer vilium ridenti Flacelts amico, tangit, & admiffus circum fracordia Indit. This was the commendation that Persius gave him;

ing that the counsels which they give where by vitium, he means those little

are equally good for moral use, Ho- vices which we call follies, the defects

race, who gives the most various advice, of human understanding, or at most the

and most applicable to all occasions peccadillos of life, rather than the tra

which can occur to us in the course of gical vices, to which men are hurried

our lives; as including in his dis- by their unruly passions and exorbitant

courses not only all the rules of mora- desires. But on the word omne, which

lity, but also of civil conversation; is is universal, he concludes with me, that

undoubtedly to be preferred to him, the divine wit of Horace left nothing

who is more circumscribed in his in- untouched; that he entered injo the in

3 C 4. most

most recesses of nature; found out the imperfections even of the most wife and grave, as well as of the common people; discovering even in the great Trebatius, to whom he addresses the frst satire, his hunting after business, and following the court; as well as in the persecutor Crispinus, his impertinence and importunity. 'Tis true, he exposes Crispinus openly as a common nuisance; but he rallies the other as a friend, more finely. The exhortations of Persius are confined to noblemen; and the stoick philosophy is that alone which he recommends to them: Juvenal exhorts to particular virtues, as they are opposed to those vices against which he declaims; but Horace laughs to shame all follies, and insinuates virtue rather by familiar examples than by the severity of precepts.

This last consideration seems to incline the balance on the side of Horace, and to give him the preference to Juvenal, not only in prosit, but in pleasure. But, after all, I must confess that the delight which Horace gives me, is but languishing. Be pleased ilill to understand, that I speak of jny own taste only: he may ravish other men; but I am too stupid and insensible to be tickled. Where he barely grins himself, and, as Scaliger fays, only shews his white teeth, he cannot provoke me to any laughter. His urbanity, that is, his good-manners, are to be commended, but his wit is faint; and his salt, if I may dare to say so, almost insipid. Juvenal is of a more vigorous and masculine wit; he

fives me as much pleasure as I can ear : he fully satisfies my expectation: he treats his subject home: his spleen is raised, and he raises mine: I have the pleasure of concernment in all he says: he drives his reader along with bim: and when he is at.the end of his way, I willingly stop with him. If he went another stage, it would be tco far, it would make a journey of a progress, and turn the delight into fatigue. When he gives over, 'tis a sign the subject is exhausted, and the wit of man can carry it no farther. Isa fault can be justly found in him, 'tis that he is sometimes too luxuriant, too redundant;

fays more than he needs, like my friend the Plain Dealer, but never more than pleases. Add to this, that his thoughts are as just as those of Horace, and much more elevated. His expression* are sonorous and more noble, his verse more numerous, and his words are suitable to his thoughts, sublime and lofty. All these contribute to the pleasure of the reader ; and the greater the soul of him Who reads, his transports are the greater. Horace is always on the amble, Juvenal on the gallop; but his way is perpetually on carpetground. He goes with more impetuosity than Horace, but as securely; and the swiftness adds more lively agitation to the spirits. Dryden.

§ 106. Delicate Satire not easily bit off.

How easy is it to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! To spare the grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice: he may give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice. Neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A witty man is tickled while he is hurt in thi» manner; and a fool feels it not. The occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he cannot take it, if it be granted, that in effect this way does more mischief; that a man is secretly wounded; and though he be not sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it out for him: yet there ij still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's wife said of her servant, of a plain piece of work, a bare hanging: but to make a malefactor die sweetly, was only belonging to her husband. I wish I could apply it to myself, if the reader would be kind

enough enough to think it belongs to me. The character of Zimri in my Absalom, is, in my opinion, worth the whole poem: tis not bloody, but *tis ridiculous enough: and he for whom it was intended, was too witty to resent it as au injury. If I had railed, I might have suffered for it justly; but I managed mine own works more happily, perhaps more dexterously. I avoided the mention of great crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind fides, and little extravagancies, to which, the wittier a man is, he is generally the more obnoxious. It succeeded as I wished ; the jest went round, and he was out in his turn who began the frolic. Dryden.

S 107. The Works ofArt defefiive in entertaining the Imagination.

If we consider the works of nature and art, as they are qualified to entertain the imagination, we shall find the last very defective, in comparison of the former; for though they may sometimes appear as beautiful or strange, they can have nothing in them of that vastness and immensity, which afford so great an entertainment to the mind of the beholder. The one may be as polite and delicate as the other, but can never (hew herself so august and magnificent in the design. There is something more bold and masterly in the rough careless strokes of nature, than in the nice touches and embellishments of art. The beauties of the most stately garden or palace lie in a narrow compass, the imagination immediately runs them over, and requires something else to gratify her; but, in the wide fields of nature, the fight wanders up and down without confinement, and is fed with an infinite variety of images, without any certain stint or number. For this reason we always find the poet in love wilh a country-life, where nature appears in the greatest perfection, and furnishes out all those scenes that are most apt to delight the imagination.

Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus et scgit utbci. Ho*.

Hk sceura quits, et nesiia fallere vita.
Dives oiium variarum; hie laiis otia fundii,
Speluncse, vivique lacus, hie frigida Tempc, ,
Mugitusqu<:boum,mollesquesub arbore somni.


But though there are several os these wild scenes, that are more delightful than any artificial shows; yet we find the works of nature still more pleasant, the more they resemble those of art: for in this cafe our pleasure rises from a double principle ; from the agreeableness of the objects to the eye, and from their similitude to other objects: we are? pleased as well with comparing their beauties, as with surveying them, and can represent them to our minds either as copies or origials. Hence it is that we take delight in a prospect which i* well laid out, and diversified with fields and meadows, woods and rivers; in those accidental landskips of trees, clouds, and cities, that are sometimes found in the veins of marble; in the curious fret-work of rocks and grottos j and, in a word, in any thing that hath, such a variety or regularity as may seem the effects of design, in what we call the works of chance.

Advantage from their Similarity t* those of Nature. .

If the products of nature rife in value, according as they more or less resemble those of art, we may be sure) that artificial works receive a greater advantage from their resemblance to such as are natural ; because here the similitude is not only pleasant, but the pattern more perfect. The prettiest landfkip I ever saw, was one drawn on the walls of a dark room, which stood opposite on one side to a navigable river, and on the other to a park. The experiment is very common in optics. Here you might discover the waves and fluctuations of the water in strong and proper colours, with the picture of a ship entering at one end, and sailing by degrees through the whole piece. On another there appeared the green shadow of trees, waving to and fro with, the wind, the herds of deer among them in miniature, leaping about upon the wall. I mult confess, the novelty of


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